


i tried to do handstands for you

by Chex (provetheworst)



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Parkour, that's about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-21
Updated: 2012-10-21
Packaged: 2017-11-16 19:28:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/543027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/provetheworst/pseuds/Chex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick is most definitely an adult. Meanwhile, Harry takes up parkour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i tried to do handstands for you

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by ohenjay and aideomai from Tumblr. Sorry about the spacing - AO3 is being weird as heck about it.
> 
> I love comments! <3

"You think I could do parkour?" Harry asked one day, lying backwards on the sofa so his head was on the ground.

"That's not parkour."

"Yeah, I know, I meant like proper, if I was standing up and all - running around and doing parkour. What's it called when you do parkour, anyway?"

"It’s just - I don't actually know. You should go on a quiz show. Ask the important questions. Give your money away if anyone can get it right."

"I'm going to, cheers. That'd be a magical program, wouldn't it? Harry Style's - money-go-round."

"There you go. What a title."

"Shut up," Harry said. "You don't know anything about nothing."

Nick dragged Harry upright, because talking to him this way was making Nick sort of dizzy, honestly. Harry grinned and, rather than sitting up, flopped against Nick; they ended up wriggling until they were lying back on the couch, Harry curled up on top of Nick like a particularly needy kitten. "I don't know what that means."

"It means I'm tired and you shouldn't be teasing me about it," Harry told him, sounding entirely too indignant. "Why d'you never take advantage, anyway?"

"I take advantage of every chance I get to make fun of you," Nick said, though that really wasn't true. He only took a good half; the rest he let slide because he could be a generous sort when it struck him. Besides, a lot of what Harry did was just plain charming, and not really worthy of mockery.

"No, no," Harry sighed. "You're not listening again."

"When'm I not listening?"

"Any time I try and, you know," Harry said.

"I don't, really."

Harry leaned over him, staring Nick in the eye. "So you're saying you've never thought about it?"

"Harry -"

"Grimmy," Harry said, eyes bright, eager and nervous all at once. "Come on, then. You're smarter than this, you can sort it out."

"Maybe I'm trying not to."

"Oh. Well, that's - another option, then," Harry said. "Right. Sorry."

-

Harry wandered off to bed not long after, which Nick was all right with. He fell asleep on the sofa easily, not thinking of much of anything, and the next night they went out and got drunk and went home together and Nick crashed on the sofa again, and Harry drove him to work that second morning.

“You know you didn’t have to get up,” Nick told him. “I usually get a taxi.”

“Right, but your alarm’s too loud,” Harry said. “I didn’t want to be awake. It’s your own fault you’re getting a lift.”

“Oh, of course. That was my plan all along when I set that alarm. Lure Harry Styles to my house and have him drive me to work some day in the distant future.”

"I swear, though," Harry told him in the car, too cheerful for this early in the morning, and apparently ready to completely change topics. "I'm going to learn how to do parkour. I'm going to - to run up walls. I'll break into your flat."

"I don't think pakrour is the same as burglary."

"I wouldn't burgle anything!"

"Burgle," Nick repeated, laughing. "Ah, I'm telling the country about that. The whole world's going to know of your demented little burglary fantasies, Harold."

"You can tell whoever you like. I don't mind. I'm going to be famous."

Nick almost pointed out that Harry already was famous, then started laughing, instead. It took him a minute sometimes, this early in the morning. It'd made sense for Harry to drive him to work when he was doing the evening show, but waking up this early was a bit mad. What Nick couldn’t figure out was why, even if his alarm had woken Harry up, Harry hadn’t just gone back to sleep like a normal person.

"I swear, Grimmy," Harry said. "You think I'm kidding, too."

"I don't think you're kidding, I just don't think you're going to do it."

"You'll see."

-

Nick did his show and got lunch and went home, then went out with his friends and didn't see Harry, because him and the band were off doing some press thing and leaving on tour again soon, which was all right with Nick, because every now and again he thought of Harry sprawled out on top of him being too bloody obvious and he wished he'd gone for it instead of taking the mature, reasonable path.

Being an adult was awful.

-

Harry going on tour was actually a relief, and a healthy dose of perspective, at that, when he went out and had all his friends make fun of him for actually showing up rather than holing up at home baking spinach pie or going out to lunch with Harry for the fourth time in a single week.

Showing up at the club, only to be greeted with Aimee’s excited, “Nick! You _are_ alive!” was a bit of a downer, actually, but then she dragged him in to dance to some terrible remix of a Taylor Swift song and he cheered back up again.

“We missed you,” she told him, eagerly, gesturing for Henry and Johnny to come over, and somehow them missing him turned into him sitting around Kate Moss’s apartment at five in the morning, drinking expensive vodka and listening to the drummer from the Maccabees telling him about global warming while he nodded along. The drummer had been going on for a good ten minutes when Nick started laughing, and couldn’t quite bring himself to stop.

“I’m really drunk,” he said, which the drummer – either Sam or Will, because Nick couldn’t for the life of him remember the poor man’s name – took as an acceptable excuse.

“I think we all are,” Sam-or-Will said, nodding. “I think – aren’t you on the radio?”

“No,” Nick said. “I’m on the settee. I have to be on the radio tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, all right, then,” the drummer said, so Nick gave him a hug and went to find Aimee and tell her they had to go out again tomorrow night because he didn’t want to sleep before his stupid radio show.

“Actually,” Nick told her, “I think I might stay up all week.”

“You can’t do that,” Aimee said. She put her hands on Nick’s shoulders. “People die from sleep deprivation, you know. Get your rest. Get lots of – of exercise. And breakfast, you can’t skip breakfast, it’s the most important meal, isn’t it? We should go get breakfast. Right now.”

“I think you’re right,” he said, so they did just that, and he hung out with her and a whole different set of wannabe-rockstars the next night and then Nick was exhausted for two mornings in a row trying to host his stupid show.

Spending time without Harry, though, made him realize that at some point he’d gotten overly reliant on having Harry around to hang out with. Harry was a pop star, of all things, prone to taking off for jaunts around the country or the world at the drop of a hat when the label required it of him, and didn’t actually have a job or commitments outside of that.

Not that being a pop star wasn’t work, but Harry wasn’t the one who had to get up at the same time every morning to do essentially the same thing every day, no matter how much Nick enjoyed his show.

Sometimes Nick wanted to go back in time, garrotte Simon Cowell and kidnap Harry for himself, both to spare Harry from the bizarre whirlwind of fame that meant people taking photos of him nearly any time he went anywhere, and from the eventual comedown once One Direction weren’t so famous anymore.

No one’d bothered giving Nick plans to a time machine, though, so instead he reminded himself that Harry was a decent friend and that Nick didn’t have any responsibility for him.

They were friends, and probably not half as close as Nick liked to think. That was it.

Nick got by.

Eventually Harry came back, and the first thing he said was, "Grimmy, you should see my bruises!"

Despite all his rationalizations Nick really had missed Harry. The fact that Harry had greeted him like that only made him laugh and question his taste in friends. "I'm not sure I want to know what you're talking about."

"You remember how -"

"Did someone beat you up because you tried breaking into their house?" Nick said, throwing an arm around Harry’s shoulders and ruffling his hair.

"Nah, I just fell off the side of a building," Harry said, ducking away from Nick with a bright smile. "Everything hurts, it's  _amazing_."

"You don't sound very distressed."

"Well, I'm proud of myself, aren't I? You said I wouldn't bother following through." Harry crossed his arms, looking smug.  "Look, though!" Harry peeled off his shirt with careless ease, displaying an admittedly impressive array of bruises.

"How did you even do that?"

"Tripped and fell over a railing." Harry sounded proud of the fact. "Then I got back up and like, tried climbing this wall but couldn’t get up all the way, and so my legs are bruised up, too, but I'm not taking off my jeans, yeah?"

Nick got caught up on that idea for a second, then shook his head, laughing. "I mean, you could if you really had to."

"But you don't want to see that," Harry said, laughing; he didn't sound bothered by that fact, but his cheeks were a little red and he turned his head away just the slightest bit. "I just wanted to prove it, that's all."

"You could've proved it by just showing me your, you know, parkour ... ing."

"See! You still don't know what to call it."

"I never said I did," Nick said. "Look, though, you could just pull up your trousers -"

"They're too tight for that," Harry said, sadly. "Can't get them up very far."

"It’s weird that you already know that without trying."

"We found a stream," Harry explained, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Anyway, though, told you. I proved it."

"You still haven't burgled my flat."

"True," Harry said, putting his shirt back on just as cheerfully as before. "Didn't want anyone calling the police on me. That'd be a laugh, right, One Direction star gets arrested breaking into friend's flat?"

"They'd think you were on heroin." Nick sighed. "Accuse you of spending too much time with Pete Doherty."

"Who's he, again?"

"Get out of here," Nick said. "I'm not talking to you."

Harry laughed, delighted. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding!"

-

It was either Friday night or Saturday morning, and Nick was laid up in bed and mostly sleep, sort of drowsing in and out of it. Earlier he'd gone out, forgotten about any pretense of self-control or maturity or acting like a rational adult, fucked an old acquaintance in the bathroom of the club, then got a cab home to sleep alone. He never seemed to have time anymore for the things he wanted to do. It was work or going out or doing errands or work and more work. 

He liked his work, at least. Waking up every morning - or staying up late enough to stay up through the morning - kept sleep in easy reach. Insomnia sounded like a funny joke to him. When he slept, it was deep and sound and waking up was difficult. At his age it was hard for him to guess how much longer he could keep up his - rock'n'roll lifestyle, or whatever it was called when you were a DJ for Radio 1 and not actually a rockstar and spent half your time hanging out with teenagers.

That was all right. He'd keep going until he couldn't anymore, then he'd get some rest.

At some point he must have fallen asleep, because he woke up suddenly to a sound at the window.

"Niiiiiick!”

Nick grumbled and rolled over, until he heard the tap at his window again and finally, blearily raised his head to see Harry at the glass waving wildly with one hand, the other gripping tight at the windowsill.

"Harry?" Nick asked, stupidly, not loud enough for Harry to actually hear.

"Open your stupid window, you bloody - safety -"

Nick grunted as he got out of bed. His knees hurt. He wasn't even thirty; he didn't deserve aching joints so soon. He opened the window anyway, and helped yank Harry inside before leaning out the window to peer down at the ground and make sure that it was still as far below as he remembered.

"Why do you even lock your windows?" Harry said irritably. "No one's going to climb up and break in or anything."

"Well, you just tried, didn't you?"

"I thought you'd be awake," Harry admitted. Nick could smell the alcohol on him.

Nick stepped around Harry, pushing the window shut again before it let in too much cold air. The floor was chilly under his bare feet and he wished he'd thought to wear slippers to bed. At least his trousers - since he hadn't bothered getting undressed before collapsing onto the mattress earlier - were warm enough. "How'd you get up here?"

"There's all kinds of - some of the bricks stick out, and you can climb the windows pretty easy," Harry explained. "Look, it doesn't matter, I told you I'd do it."

"You did," Nick agreed, unrolling his sleeves and pulling them down as far as he could. He crossed his arms and wished he were still under the warm covers. "It's too early, though, let me get some sleep."

"Right, yeah," Harry said, laughing. "I'm a little drunk."

Nick shook his head, amused. "No, really?"

"I just wanted to prove it," Harry said, shambling over to Nick's bed and letting himself fall onto it backwards, arms spread out and staring at the ceiling. "That I'd do what I said, I mean. I dunno if - it's stupid."

"What's stupid?"

"You already said you weren't interested," Harry said. He put his arms behind his head, still watching the ceiling and not looking at Nick while he spoke. "I just want to impress you, though."

For all Harry was intent on not watching Nick, Nick was watching him. Harry looked very, very young, right then. Nick wanted to rock him to sleep and tell him everything would be fine. Instead, he said, "All right, Harry, come on. Get some sleep."

"S'your bed though, Grimmy."

"I can sleep on the couch," Nick said, then rethought it, said, "Or we can share, it's fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," Nick said, manhandling Harry a bit to actually get him under the covers before climbing back into bed next to him. "Get some rest. You'll feel better in the morning."

Harry curled in tightly against Nick's side, almost instinctively. He was warm, at least. Nick wasn't going to begrudge him the option. "I'll be hung over in the morning."

That made Nick laugh, though. "When have you ever gotten a hangover?"

"I could," Harry said, miserably. "You can't prove I won't get one. It could be like a rite of passage. How do you know I won't?"

"I don't! I'm not a fortune teller, you're right! Congratulations, Harry, you figured out my secret."

Harry hid his face against a pillow and didn't answer.

Nick patted Harry's back, and said, very quietly, "Night, Harry."

"Night, Grimmy," Harry mumbled, voice muffled by the soft fabric. Nick let his hand rest on Harry's back, rubbing soothing little circles.

-

"Nick, hey," Harry whispered. "Time to wake up. Nick!" He clapped his hands right next to Nick's ears, quite suddenly.

Nick rolled away and pulled a pillow across his face, curling up into the fetal position. "Fuck! Don't do that, I'm awake! I'm awake."

Harry tugged the pillow away, smiling down at him for a moment before suddenly turning away like just having Nick look at him was too much for one morning. "Good. Proud of you, Grimshaw."

"Shove off." Nick yawned, turning his head a little to watch Harry sit up and fuss with the covers. "You feeling better?"

"Yeah."

"Why'd you even wake me up? It's Saturday, I haven't got to be anywhere."

"Oh. Is it really?"

"Yeah."

Harry thought on that for a moment. "You wanna go out and watch the sunrise?"

"What, like go up to the roof?"

"Yeah, sure," Harry said, looking toward the window. "Think you can make it?"

"There's stairs," Nick said, laughing. "You don't have to keep showing off."

"I just wanted to prove I could do it," Harry said. "I could get up to your roof if I had to."

"What would you do up there?" Nick got out of bed, rummaging through his carefully organized drawers and putting everything in disarray as he tried to sort out just what to wear for an early morning on the roof. It was likely to be a bit chilly and damp, but that was no reason for him to just throw on any old thing.

Harry had his arms resting on his knees, and was sat watching Nick, eerily calm. "I just said; watch the sunrise."

"Right, right. How could I forget?"

"Dunno. I doubt you're even paying attention." Harry smiled.

"Course I am," Nick said. "I always do."

Harry rolled his eyes and laughed and shoved Nick's shoulder, and from there Nick went to the kitchen and made coffee for the both of them before leading Harry up to the roof.

"Careful," Nick said, needlessly, as they sat down on the cold tiles of the roof.

"I'm the one who climbed into your room last night. You're the one who should be scared of falling."

"See, and you could have just called," Nick pointed out. "Would've gone a lot more easily."

"You were sleeping, though, so I would've woke you up."

Nick stared at him.

"I guess I did anyway, though." Harry smiled, like he was attempting sheepishness but could only manage to look smug. "Sorry. Look, though, the sky's getting light."

"It is! That happens in the morning, you know."

"Really?"

Nick laughed and looked out at the sky, finally shaken away from watching Harry. "You're awful."

"You started it," Harry said. He turned, looked at Nick for a moment. "You ever - have like ... You ever have somebody, and you really like them, and they liked you back, only it's past tense with them, and like, you keep thinking you're over it only you're not?"

"What's this about?"

"Nothing, never mind."

"Harry -"

"I said never mind." Harry was quiet a moment, then said, "Hey, look, though! I can do a handstand!"

"Not on the roof," Nick said, but Harry did it anyway. He was wearing the slouchiest sort of sweatpants and a soft red shirt that fell and showed off his stomach when he went up on his hands, and Nick watched, sort of impressed despite himself how long Harry managed to hold it before taking a bit of a tumble and sitting gracelessly back down.

"There, see? I didn't die or anything. Told you I could do it."

"I never doubted," Nick said.

"Bet I could get to the ground from here."

"No." Nick said. "Honestly, what are you trying to prove?"

"I've no idea anymore." Harry had a crooked little grin. "It's awful."

Harry went home after that, which Nick was all right with. It gave him a chance to get some more sleep. He ended up texting Harry when he woke up, though, with a hopefully-friendly little  _you alright? x_

Harry got back with a  _yes! what's up?_  pretty quickly, which meant he wasn't asleep himself. Nick shook his head, fondly. It was that or Nick had woken him up with the message. Either way, Nick figured he might as well ask if Harry wanted to go out someplace later. 

Harry wanted to, it turned out. That was good. Nick hoped that going out would help distract Harry from whatever had him acting so strangely. It felt a little stupid sometimes how much he cared about Harry’s happiness or lack thereof, but he reminded himself they’d been friends for a year now and it wasn’t that strange. Cheering Harry up worked in Nick’s own self interest, too, because Harry was a lot more fun to hang out with when he was in a decent mood.

It was sort of a relief for Nick to know he was acting selfishly even while playing at concern. He loved his friends, adored Harry, but he didn’t have the time to obsess over Harry. Harry had his own band and his own friends to take care of him.

He wasn’t responsible for him or anything. They were just going to go out and get drunk, and Harry would cheer up and everything would be all right.

-

"Here, here," Nick whispered, hand around Harry's neck to pull him in close. "Harry. Hazzzzzzza. Hey."

"Hullo," Harry said, his face all scrunched up with delight. "What is it?"

"Do you want to ... we could - I don't know what I was going to ask you." Nick started laughing. "We could go somewhere else."

"You wanna go 'round the back, then?"

"Sure, yeah," Nick said, and finished off the last of his drink in one quick gulp before setting the cup aside, throwing an arm around Harry's waist and dragging him out to the alley behind the bar. "Hi. You going to show me some parkour or something?"

"Wasn't going to, but I could, I guess." Harry sounded amused, at least.

"What'd you have in mind, then?"

"I just thought ... nah, here, look," Harry said, and took off at a run, jumping up onto a pile of empty boxes next to the dumpster, then the dumpster itself before making a leap for the rickety fire escape above, dangling from that and climbing backwards along the metal bars until he reached the ladder. He had to hop around to the front side of the ladder to climb it properly, but he did, and then he was peering down at Nick from probably fifteen feet up, leaning over the railing. "Told you."

"You told me, yeah," Nick said. "I'm impressed."

"Cheers."

"Going to burgle anyone else's home that way?"

"I'm going to take everything you own, if that counts."

"What if I got a guard dog?"

"I bet it'd love me."

"Yeah, probably." Nick made a face. "Bet dogs go mad for you, don't they?"

"A little," Harry said.

-

Nick got a dog.

-

"You're always giving your dog tummy rubs," Harry said. "Makes a man a bit jealous, doesn't it?"

"Don't start," Nick said. "He asks nicely. You can do the same."

"What?" Harry said, laughing.

"You want a belly rub that bad, you might as well ask."

Harry flounced over onto his back, tucking his arms in against his side, elbows bent and wrists curled over. He balled his hands into fists in what was probably an attempt to imitate the way Lex begged for tummy rubs. "That good enough?"

Nick cracked up, and hid his face against Lex, who wriggled away, looking concerned by the whole thing and then trotted over to lick worriedly at Harry's face. Harry shouted, "No! Stop that!" and shoved Lex away, though Lex took it as an invite to play and wiggled his tail.

"Your dog's insane, Grimshaw," Harry said.

"You've ruined him."

"All I wanted was a tummy rub, not for your dog to try and make out with me."

"Too bad for you, then."

Nick was weak, though. He went over, crouching on the floor next to Harry, grinning wide at him. "You sure?"

"Sure what?"

Nick put a hand on his stomach.

"You're really going to do it?" Harry asked, laughing, and Nick was kind of fascinated feeling the muscles of Harry's stomach tense up under his hand. Nick rubbed at his stomach, though, back and forth.

At first Harry kept laughing, but then he went sort of soft and pliable, with a little sigh, relaxing into the touch, and Nick felt kind of weird about it but not so much that he was going to stop.

Harry's eyes slipped shut. He looked euphoric, sort of. Nick thought that, maybe he could just sort of lean over and maybe - if he just kept his hand on Harry's stomach, he could kind of lean in a little.

"Nick?" Harry said, squinting an eye open.

"Hiya," Nick said, looking down from entirely too close.

"You okay there?" Harry asked, voice low and unsure.  

"Yeah. I - wait, though, are you?" Nick asked, sitting back to push Harry's shirt up. "You've still got bruises; doesn't it hurt?" He prodded at one anyway.

Harry sort of winced but gave Nick a pleased little grin at the same time. "Little bit, yeah."

"Sorry -"

Harry reached out and took Nick's wrist before Nick could pull it away. "No, no, s'nice. I'm, you know. Proud of myself."

"All right?"

"Just of - I told you I'd do it," Harry said. He touched a hand to his own stomach, prodding at a bruise; his fingers brushed against Nick's. "I'll get better, too, yeah?"

"Yeah," Nick said, watching Harry's hand as the boy explored his own bruises. Nick took in a deep breath.

Then Lex started barking at something outside the window, and Nick, turned, startled into laughter.

"Lex!" Nick called out. "Stop it!"

"Your dog knows how to ruin a moment."

"There wasn't a moment."

"No?"

"Maybe a little bit of one," Nick said. "There could have been a moment."

"Hm."

Nick paused. "That hurt?"

"Little bit."

Nick closed his eyes, and then shifted around. He bent his head, kissed at the bruise. "Any better?"

Harry let out a sigh. "Yeah."

"There you go, then," Nick said, with a solid thump that sent Harry wriggling away laughing.

" _Fuck_ , that hurt," Harry said, apparently overjoyed with that fact. "I'm so rubbish at parkour. It's amazing."

"I don't think I know anyone even half as excited about getting hurt as you are. Or, well." Nick laughed. "Not like you are, anyway."

"You know a lot of blokes into it in a sexy way, then?"

"A few," Nick allowed, amused.

"Then you can, you know. Add another one to your list."

Nick paused a moment, taking in a deep breath. He watched Harry carefully, then looked away. "Don't really keep a list."

"God." Harry closed his eyes and lay very still. "Why do you keep letting me act like such an idiot?"

"Harry."

"I'm sorry. I'll stop it."

"You're all right, Harry," Nick said. He laid down, resting his head on Harry's stomach, nosing at the soft skin there.

"Now you're being mean, though."

"Nah," Nick said. He took a deep breath. "C'mere."

"I'm already here, though."

"No, no, here," Nick said, with a vague gesture. Then he shook his head, laughing, and sat up. "Here, come on, though. Up, up, off the floor!"

"I don't want to get up. I'm heartbroken."

"You're not heartbroken, fuck off. Get up."

"Make me," Harry said, petulant, so Nick dragged him up by his collar. Harry stared at him, wide-eyed, looking startled but not entirely unhappy about it.

"There we are," Nick said, brushing at Harry's shoulders to get rid of imaginary dirt. "All better."

"You're obligated to get me drunk now, though."

"Am not," Nick said, letting a hand drift back to Harry's collar, pulling him in close.

"Nick?"

"You've got two choices here," Nick said. "Either I can be an idiot or you can be heartbroken."

"Well, I'd rather not be, so -"

"Right, so it's settled," Nick said, and dragged Harry in the rest of the way, giving him what was quite possibly the worst kiss of Nick's life, all teeth and awkwardness with their noses smashed together. He laughed, tilted his head and tried again; that was much better.

It took Harry a second to even register what was happening, apparently, but once he did he balled his hands up in Nick's shirt and clung to him like a lifeline.

"Still sad?" Nick asked after a moment.

"Not really."

"That's good. You wanna sit down?"

"We could go to your bedroom," Harry offered, bright-eyed. He got altogether too pleased with himself, sometimes, but Nick couldn't bring himself to be offended. Instead, he took Harry's hand and led him to the bedroom, then pushed the boy down against the bed, because it sort of seemed like Harry enjoyed being pushed around, just a bit.

Nick was good at being pushy. It worked out nicely, as it turned out. Also, Harry was entirely too eager for his own good, considering he'd been moping just moments before. Before Nick even fully realized it, Harry'd dragged Nick's shirt halfway off, so Nick got with the times and helped pull it off before sitting back enough to get Harry's off as well.

Most of Harry's bruises were fairly faded, but they still looked pretty awful. "How can you even breathe?" Nick asked, prodding at some of the purple splotch stained across Harry's ribs.

"Doesn't hurt as much as it did anymore, that's how," Harry said. "C'mon, hey. Do you want to - I like you."

"Cheers," Nick said. "You're all right yourself."

"So are we going to, you know."

"Going to what?"

"I dunno. Some sort of sexual thing, probably."

"Fuck," Nick said, and pressed his face to Harry's chest to muffle his laughter. Harry smacked him across the head, which only made him laugh harder.

"Quit it, what's funny?"

"You are." Nick grinned at him. "I should've done this sooner."

"That would have been nice," Harry agreed.

Nick was okay with shutting up, honestly, especially since Harry apparently wanted to suck his dick rather than say anything else. Harry was quick with his hands in getting Nick's trousers undone, then hesitated a moment, unsure, said, "This all right?"

"Yeah, yeah, this is all right!" Nick huffed out a laugh, scuffing a hand through Harry's hair then resting his hand at the side of Harry's head, feeling rather confused as to how he'd gotten here. Not that he was all that fussed, as it turned out, because Harry was an all right kisser and,  _oh_ , a bit of a tease, mouthing at Nick through his underwear and looking up at him with this sly little grin.

Nick had been a damned fool not doing this earlier, though possibly the wait'd been worth it or whatever, since Harry was seemingly intent on doing the best damn job he could. Nick wondered idly how many dicks Harry'd sucked before this, as Harry finally pulled his underwear aside and licked, delicately, at the tip, giving Nick a bloody wink as he did it.

Harry had to have done this before. Nick was all right with that. Nick was relieved, actually - he'd had some sort of bizarre mental image he'd held onto that Harry was probably inexperienced or whatever, despite having working knowledge of Harry's constant flirtation and knowing full well that, at age 18, Harry'd slept with an awful lot more people than Nick had at that age.

Not that Nick'd done poorly for himself, either, but Harry was an international pop star.

Which didn't necessarily translate to blowjob prowess. Still, here Nick was, with Harry's mouth hot around his dick, which shouldn’t have ranked near so high on his list of sexual achievements as it already did. This was a top ten already, easily. He wasn’t going to complain about it.

Instead, he fisted his hand tight in Harry's hair, not quite sure whether he could pull or if Harry'd mind being pushed down. He wasn’t about to ask, though, since Harry wasn’t in a position to answer. Harry had an incredibly intent look on his face, one hand wrapped around Nick and the other braced against Nick’s thigh.

From this angle, his eyelashes were more obvious than ever. Nick took in a deep breath. "God, look at you," he said, and Harry sort-of laughed, which felt strange, but really not terrible, and somehow that moment of delight was what set Nick off. "Harry, I'm about to -"

Harry just barely nodded, just managing a smile around him - mouth stretched tight, so it looked really fucking bizarre - and gave him another wink. Nick shut his eyes and bit down on his fist and came, hard, and Harry swallowed him through it.

"Good work, there," Nick told him breathlessly, patting Harry on the head. Harry laughed again, wiping a hand across the back of his mouth.

"What?"

"Good job. Now c'mere," Nick said, and Harry crawled up nearer so Nick could kiss him. He could taste himself, still, and shuddered a little at the thought before reaching down between them to get a hold of Harry and stroke him off. Harry was a decent size, nice and thick in his hand, and Nick thought he’d have to repay the favor and blow him some day in return. For now, this’d do.

Harry came awfully quick, but Nick wasn't going to fault him. Harry was young, after all, and had seemed pretty into that blowjob he'd just given.

"Can we do that again sometime?" Harry asked, hopefully.

"Yeah, whenever," Nick said. "I'd be all right with that. Definitely all right with it."

"Good." He hesitated a moment, looking away. Nick touched a hand to his cheek, though, turned Harry back toward him. "And, ah. Well."

"Well?"

"Nothing, nothing."

"All right. You wanna go out tomorrow night? There's this new club opening up, we were all gonna go down, but like, you and I could get dinner first, if you want."

"Just you and me, then?"

"Yeah. We've gotten dinner before."

"Not since I sucked you off."

"That was like five minutes ago, Harry."

"So?"

"So I'm still willing to go get dinner with you, if you want to come."

"Oh." Harry kissed the corner of Nick's mouth. "Good. Thanks."

-

Nick got a call maybe thirty minutes before dinner, from Louis of all people. "Hey, Nick!"

"Hey! How are you?"

"I'm all right, I'm fine. How're you?"

"I'm doing well. What can I help you with, Louis?"

"I don't really need help with anything, I"m just calling for Harry -"

"He isn't here," Nick said, bewildered.

"No, no, I mean, he wanted me to say he can't make it out tonight."

Nick let out a breath and shut his eyes for a second, then shrugged it off. He hadn't been that invested in the idea, but he'd already gotten dressed and it was a little last minute to see if anyone else wanted to grab a bite to eat before going out. He'd manage, somehow. It was just weird, with how delighted Harry had seemed when Nick had asked. He'd sort of thought it might be something, maybe, not that he was going to lay a name to it. "Oh. Well, that's - all right, then. He say why?"

"Oh, he's in hospital," Louis said.

"He's what? Is he - why? Is he all right?"

"Yeah, yeah, he's fine! He sprained his ankle, that's all," Louis said.

Nick shook his head, holding back an astonished laugh. "You could have told me that from the start."

-

"Nick, can you get me something from Pret?" Harry said, mournfully, rather than actually saying hello or anything.

"Hi there, Harry," Nick said, juggling the phone on his shoulder and setting down the NME he'd been wondering over. "You still at the hospital?"

"I'm home again, and you've got to bring me soup."

Nick laughed. "Uh-huh. You don't have people for that?"

"No," Harry said. "I could probably get the label to do it, but you should just - that seems weird. Bring me some soup."

"All right," Nick went to find his keys, which turned out to be in his pocket, then headed out. It wasn't too far to walk, and Harry's was close enough. Hopefully there weren’t any paparazzi camped out outside of Harry’s house or anything, clamoring for pictures of Nick Grimshaw bringing him soup. He rather doubted it. They didn’t seem to care _that_ much, and even the moment of paranoia had him shaking his head at himself as he walked along, never mind that he probably looked mad to anyone paying attention.

"Wait, you're really going to do it?"

"Yeah," Nick said. "You’re an invalid, aren’t you? I’ve got to look after you.”

"I'll pay you back!" Harry sounded delighted. "Thanks, I've been sort of debating with myself for the past hour if I should just order food or not. You're a miracle worker."

"I do try," Nick said, laughing. "I'll be there in a minute. Try not to break anything else, all right?"

"Yeah, all right," Harry said. "I think I'm going to quit parkour. It's deadly, it is."

"You're the deadly one."

"How's that even make sense?"

"Shush," Nick told him. "I'll see you soon, and you can think of something to repay me with, yeah?"

Harry sounded entirely too innocent as he asked, "What, like sucking you off again?"

“You’re going to trade blowjobs for soup? You’re a bit of a cheap date, aren’t you?”

“Oh, shut up,” Harry said. “I’m trying to be sexy.”

“You’re – no, quit it,” Nick said. “I’m not talking to you anymore. I’ll see you in a minute, yeah?”

“You’re still bringing me –“

Nick rolled his eyes. “Yes, Harry, I’m still bringing you food. You’re not going to starve to death.”

-

Harry opened the door just a crack, peering out suspiciously, then flung it open. “Nick! It’s you!”

“It’s me!” Nick said, waving his hands in the air and putting on the most overblown smile he could. “Hiiiii!”

“Hi,” Harry said, more sedately. “What’d you get me?”

“Chicken noodle.”

“I’m not sick, just injured,” Harry said.

“You need me to go back?”

“No, no, it’s all right. I’ll manage somehow, I’m sure,” Harry said. He bit his lip, smiling, and then shook his head before turning and limping off to the kitchen.

“You really are an invalid.” Nick watched Harry’s walk with a different interest from the usual.

“Did you think it was all some sort of elaborate plan to trick you into getting me lunch?”

“Could’ve been. You never know.”

Harry sat back down, but watched Nick, chewing on his lip again as he ran a hand through his curls. “So, well. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“I was just kind of, you know, I was wondering a little, is all, if you were still … If you still wanted. What I offered? On the phone? Or else, you know, ha! I was kidding.”

“Harry,” Nick said, standing up before he’d even started eating anything or even gotten his food out from the bag.

“Sorry. I was kidding! Definitely kidding –“

“You sure?”

“It’s fine, if you’re not interested anymore, I mean, I’m not very good, I know, and you’re older, so you’ve probably had a lot better, and. Well. So yeah. It’s fine. Thanks for getting lunch, though, really, it was nice of you.”

“Harry.” Nick leaned over him, one hand braced on the back of the chair, the other on Harry’s thigh. “Since when do you worry so much?”

“Dunno.”

“Well, stop it,” Nick said. Harry’s eyes darted down, and Nick grinned, licking his lips.

Harry swallowed hard. “All right. So does this mean -”

“I said stop it,” Nick said, laughing, and kissed Harry.

Harry took the hint and stopped talking.


End file.
